


Devil’s plan

by Fandomthings



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: AU, Based on writing prompt, Flirting, M/M, Pining, Pre-Relationship, or an attempt to at least, rated teen and up for swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-09
Updated: 2019-07-09
Packaged: 2020-06-25 13:51:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19747045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fandomthings/pseuds/Fandomthings
Summary: Based on this prompt by writing-prompt-s on Tumblr:“Wait a minute, you’re not the Devil!”"True, I'm just the guy he hired to deal with emo brats like you who think selling your soul is a good idea."-In other words, Grantaire works for the Devil, but maybe it isn’t all that bad.





	Devil’s plan

Grantaire didn’t love his job, but at least it was well paid. His boss, the literal Devil, wasn’t as much of a pain in the ass as you would think he is. It were the ‘clients’ who could be an absolute pain though. 

“Grantaire, another dude wants to sell his soul, please go fix it,” Eponine whined. She had the same job as him, because apparently multiple people were needed for it. Yes, really a lot of people are willing to sell their souls. 

“Come on, I went to that girl earlier today!” He protested. “And she wanted to sell her soul to bring her goldfish back to life! A goldfish!” Most often the clients would ask things like fame or money, but sometimes they’d have a more… special request. 

“Please?” She put on her best puppy eyes.  _ Damn.  _ Eponine was well aware Grantaire had a hard time telling his best friend no as is, nevermind when the puppy eyes came. 

He groaned. “Alright, but you do the next one.”

A paper with a short description was handed over, so they wouldn’t accidentally speak to the wrong person. Grantaire knew he was fucked as soon as he read the paper.  _ Enjolras. Guy. 21. Blond. Looks fierce.  _ Eponine was grinning at it too.

“Whatever, just hand me the address.”

~~

Well, the paper didn’t lie. He definitely looked fierce. 

And handsome. 

And Grantaire’s type. 

Which was stupid because he knew nothing about the guy, except for his appearance and the fact that he’s apparently willing to sell his soul to the Devil, which was quite the turn-off. Hey, maybe he had a good reason to? Who knows. 

He was sitting alone at a table, furiously typing on his computer. The coffeeshop screamed ‘hipster’ too, and he looked very much in place. 

“Uhm, hello?” He tried approaching him. This was by far the worst part of the job, having to tell people this whole thing. “Heard you want to sell your soul to the Devil?”

Without asking, Grantaire sat himself on the chair right in front of enjolras. 

The guy,  _ Enjolras _ , was obviously startled at this. Who wouldn’t be?

“Do I know you?” He looked at him, not necessarily suspiciously either, unlike most people do. Most people would try to deny it straight away too, or would just say  _ ‘yea, what about it?’ _

“Probably not,” he leaned a bit forward on the table, lowering his voice a bit. It was a quiet coffee shop after all and it did seem like people were trying to study. “But this isn’t about me. Do you want to sell your soul or not?”

Enjolras blinked a couple of times. “Is that an offer?” 

“Who knows?” He smirked a bit. This was definitely one of those jobs where you had to look confident in what you’re saying, and while that wasn’t necessarily Grantaire’s strongest point, he  _ was _ good in being snarky. 

“I didn’t think-...” the blond started. “Well, yea, I guess. Maybe. I said it to my friend earlier today, but I didn’t-...”

This was how most of Grantaire’s conversations on the topic went. The other person involved clearly confused, either trying to deny it really hard, or not backing down on their soul-selling thing at all. 

“What are you wanting to get in place then?” Grantaire asked. It was something he had to ask of course, but he was also genuinely interested, now the had seen the guy. He could very well get famous on his own with his looks if he just opened an instagram account, and he already looked rich enough as is. Not super rich, but he didn’t look wannabe-rich either. If it was another goldfish case—

“Shouldn’t you know? I thought the devil knew everything, if that’s apparently what you are, although,” he looked Grantaire up and down. “Wait a minute, you’re not the devil!”

It wasn’t hard to figure out, really. Grantaire didn’t exactly look intimidating, and while maybe not the most handsome guy, he definitely didn’t look like how the Devil got depicted most of the time. And yes, his boss did look like the way you’d think he’d look. 

"True, I'm just the guy he hired to deal with emo brats like you who think selling your soul is a good idea,” he cocked an eyebrow, and Enjolras didn’t seem too happy with that answer. “But by all means, do tell me what this whole thing is about,” he said. “Or no, wait, let me guess! Uhm, let’s see,...”

He looked Enjolras up and down a couple of times, enjoying the view. Enjolras however, grew more and more annoyed with every minute of this conversation. 

“It’s-,” he started, but Grantaire cut him off. 

“I don’t think it’s fame or money. Or a goldfish, although, that one isn’t off the table completely yet. Tell me, mister Enjolras, do you have a dead goldfish?”

“I-... what? No?” 

“Right, you look more like a bird-person anyways. Then maybe, you want to graduate with a very high GPA? You’re 21, right? What do you study? Maths? You look like someone who does maths,” Grantaire went on, slightly amused at Enjolras’ annoyed look. 

“Listen, I don’t know how you even got here or know my age and name, but just quit it. Alright, I’m not selling my soul to the Devil, because that apparently isn’t an option anyway,” he rolled his eyes. “You can go back to  _ mister The Devil Himself _ and tell him you’ve cleared another case! Why does he even bother sending you here?” 

At least the coffeeshop wasn’t too busy this afternoon, and only a couple of students were seated pretty far away, or anyone listening in with this conversation would be even more confused about it than Enjolras was. 

“Oh, come on! You’re no fun!” Grantaire whined. “Please tell me?” Frankly, the longer he sat here talking the better. He was paid for this after all, and the longer he spent talking here, the less he’d have to talk to other people. 

“Well, if you must know,” Enjolras rolled his eyes as he gave in. “I wanted to sell my soul for world peace.”

If it was Grantaire’s first day on the job, he might would’ve laughed straight in the guy’s face. But this wasn’t Grantaire’s first day on the job, and frankly, he had heard more ridiculous things sadly enough. 

“Well, congrats, you’re not unique. I saw another guy about a year ago saying the same thing,” he’d be more cynical over the whole thing, but he had already had this whole conversation with the first guy and truly couldn’t be bothered anymore. 

That’s definitely not the response the blond expected. “I guess asking the Devil for world peace isn’t a great idea anyway.”

“Hey, my boss isn’t a terrible person-... or-... is he actually a person?” Grantaire suddenly started questioning, more so himself than Enjolras. He had never really thought about that. “He’s not a terrible-... let’s just say he’s not like the biblical figure. Not that I’d know, I haven’t read the bible. But I can imagine he’s not like the biblical figure.”

“This is truly one of the weirdest conversations I’ve ever been in,” he said.

Grantaire sighed. “I wish I could say the same, but alas, I’ve been doing this job for too long.”

And then, as if something switched in Enjolras, he suddenly looked interested, closed his laptop and leaned a bit more forward. “How long have you been working there? Do they, the devil, have good work ethics? Are you getting paid above minimum wage? Are there other people doing this job? Are you-“

“Wow, easy there, Apollo,” the nickname had slipped out on accident, really, but could you blame him? Maybe if Enjolras didn’t look like the literal god Apollo, he wouldn’t have this problem. Still, he didn’t let the other interrupt him. “I didn’t come here to talk about my job, or my salary, or my boss. I just came here to say, ‘ _ hey, you had a fuckig stupid idea and I’m here to tell you that it’s a stupid idea and the Devil is too busy to take said stupid idea into consideration’ _ . And yes, that is pretty much my whole job description.”

Enjolras pressed his lips in a thin line, and didn’t say anything for a second, clearly thinking about his response. “Well,” he started. “I’m not saying they are bad, but  _ if  _ they are, just know that you have the same rights as anyone working for a regular human being.”

“Obviously?” Grantaire asked more than said, even though it was really just a statement. Why was Enjolras even suddenly talking about this? “Don’t you worry, he’s following the law perfectly fine.”

“Great.”

“Great.”

And then they both sat there in silent for a while. Grantaire probably should get going by now, but for some reason he really didn’t want to. 

After a bit, the silence grew rather awkward, before Enjolras spoke up. “Not too many people want to sell their souls I see?” He raised an eyebrow. 

“You want me gone?” Grantaire said dramatically. “Oh, Enjolras, you’re hurting me!” He grabbed his chest with his right hand and dropped is left hand on his forehead, throwing his head backwards. 

“Urg, no I-“

“Hey Enjolras, you won’t believe-... oh,” they suddenly heard a loud voice coming near the table. “Who is this?” They said with the biggest grin.

“Well, this is, uh-“

“Grantaire,” he said, realizing Enjolras didn’t even know his name yet. 

“Well, well, well,” the other said again, grin as big as ever. “I’m Courfeyrac, Enjolras’ best friend,” he grabbed a chair from a nearby table and seated himself quickly. “Anything you want to tell me, Enjolras?” 

Courfeyrac was looking at his friends with a mischievous grin, chin resting on his hand. He had glitter stuck in his hair somehow, and was dressed in bright red pants and a blue t-shirt. Grantaire, in that moment, decided he liked this person. 

“I have absolutely no explanation for this whole thing,” Enjolras said. Maybe he didn’t want to tell his friend about Grantaire’s job because he didn’t know whether that was confidential or not. Or maybe it was because he didn’t want the embarrassment of saying he wanted to sell his soul to the Devil, although he had apparently told that to one of his friends anyways. 

“Oh my God!” Courfeyrac shrieked. “You’re on a date! I can’t believe this! Hey ‘Chetta,” he turned around to the woman behind the register in a way too excited manner. “Our Enjolras is on his way to a boyfriend!” He said way too loudly for everyone to hear, and Grantaire practically choked on air at this. 

He wasn’t sure what he was expecting to happen when Courfeyrac started teasing Enjolras anyway, he probably should’ve seen it coming. 

But Enjolras was off worse than he was, as his eyes grew twice the size and his face went bright red. “No! We’re not! I’m not! He’s-... tell them we’re not, Grantaire!” 

It was cute. 

“What, am I not good enough for you? You keep hurting me, Enjolras!” He said dramatically again. As much as he was in this too, he wasn’t gonna pass up on a way to rile up Enjolras even more. He was cute when annoyed. 

“Our Enjy is growing up!” The woman from behind the register was suddenly at their table too, pretending to wipe away a tear. 

Enjolras groaned loudly. “Oh my God this is so embarrassing,” he turned to the two. “Musichetta, tell Courfeyrac he’s overreacting!”

Now, Grantaire didn’t know any of these three people that well at all, but considering Musichetta’s whole  _ ‘he’s growing up! _ ’ And fake tear moment, he felt like she was more on Courfeyrac’s side than Enjolras’. 

“Absolutely not!” She said, grabbing another chair and sitting down too, before she turned to Grantaire. “Musichetta, nice to meet you,” he stuck out her hand and Grantaire shook it. 

“Grantaire,” he said in return, as he heard Enjolras groan. Taking pity on the guy, he decided to stop the whole theatre before his friends started thinking it was real. “But I must admit, this really isn’t a date.”

“Then what is it?” Courfeyrac asked. 

Grantaire looked at Enjolras, waiting for him to explain, but the other just did the same, resulting in them two just staring at each other for a while. God, how his having  _ this  _ shiny hair even legal? What kind of wonder shampoo does he use?

“Hello? Earth to any of you two?” Musichetta waved her hand in front of them. 

“I’ll explain tonight,” Enjolras ended up saying while tearing his eyes away from Grantaire, “don’t you two have placed to be?” He groaned. 

Musichetta looked back at the register. It was quiet and no one was waiting on her, but she ended up saying “whatever,” and going back to work anyways. “See you later boys.”

Courfeyrac wasn’t as easy to convince though. “You literally asked me to come here! Do I need to show you your own text message?” 

“Well, that was before-...” Enjolras made some awkward arm movements, looking at Grantaire, then back at Courfeyrac. “This!”

“Right,” he rolled his eyes. “Whatever ‘this’ is.”

“It’s fine, I can go-,” Grantaire said, standing up. Really, he should’ve went a while ago, this was the perfect excuse anyways. But he didn’t  _ want  _ to go, not really. He was strangely interested in this Enjolras guy, and his whole friend group. 

“No!” Courfeyrac then suddenly jumped up. “It’s fine, I’ll go, you two talk some more,” he pushed Grantaire back down, and he swore the other  _ winked  _ at him. “You never know what can happen,” he turned around to Enjolras, and while Grantaire couldn’t see his face, the blush on the other’s cheeks could only indicate Courfeyrac had also winked at him. 

And before they knew it, he was out of the door again. 

“Urg, I’m sorry,” Enjolras groaned for the millionth time today. “I love my friends, but they can be very-... well, you just saw.”

“Nah, it’s fine. Now Enjolras, tell me, how serious are you about this ‘world peace’ thing?”

~~

And that’s how they ended up talking for quite a few hours. Grantaire had even ordered two coffees by then, and Enjolras was giving him a whole speech again. 

He must admit, they had quite a few heated discussions over the past few hours, mainly because of Grantaire’s realism, or perhaps more cynicism, and Enjolras not having that at all. But Enjolras never asked him to leave, no matter how annoyed he got, and so Grantaire didn’t leave. And the conversation just kept going. 

Enjolras was extremely addicting in a way, and Grantaire was gone and he knew it too. This really was a mistake. He highly doubted Enjolras thought anything more of him other than ‘very annoying’. 

“Oh, sorry,” Grantaire said as his phone suddenly rang, cutting off Enjolras mid-speech. 

The display screen had Eponine’s name in big letters, and the current hour.  _ 18:22.  _ Fuck, they really had been talking for a while. “Yes?”

_ “You still alive? You’ve been gone for a really long time,”  _ she said sounding mildly alarmed. He didn’t blame her these little trips often lasted less than an hour. 

“It’s fine, nothing happened-“

“ _ Another goldfish case?”  _ She joked. 

“No, not another goldfish case. Just don’t worry about it, I’ll leave now, I’ll tell you later,” because there was no way he was about to say  _ ‘yes, I’ve been talking politics with a totally hot guy for hours now, and I’m fucked _ ,’ when said totally hot guy was right in front of him. “See you.”

“Girlfriend?” Enjolras raised his eyebrows as he ended the call. 

Grantaire couldn’t help but laugh a bit at this. “Nah, best friend and co-worker,” he said. 

“Oh,” he knew his brain was playing tricks on him when he saw Enjolras’ face relaxing a bit more. 

“But I really should get going. I’m not normally supposed to stay this long.”

Enjolras turned toward the clock on the wall, and looked like he only realized in that moment how long they actually had been talking. “I’m sorry I kept you from work so long.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Grantaire shook his head and stood up. “Well, it was nice to meet you, Enjolras,” he said, adding ‘ _ hope I see you again _ ’ in his head. 

“Right,” the other looked hesitant, as if he was about to say something, but closed his mouth back again. 

Mentally, he prepared himself to turn around, and never see Enjolras again. Sad of course, but what can you do? 

And then Enjolras did something he really wasn’t expecting. “Wait! Do you maybe like, want to hang out some other time? I’ll give you my phone number so we can arrange something over text.” 

He blinked a couple of times, totally taken aback, before recomposing himself. 

“Right, it’s a date,” Grantaire smirked. He was ready to just play to off as a joke if Enjolras would be against it, but much to his surprise he said nothing and just nodded. 

Grantaire was eternally grateful there were no ‘no dating clients’ rules. 


End file.
